


The Fruit of Discord

by eldritcher



Series: The Journal of Fingolfin [18]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 02:44:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4002847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldritcher/pseuds/eldritcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Amrod takes a fancy to the handsome fellow Maedhros has acquired from meddling in Edain politics</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fruit of Discord

“We make ourselves a place apart behind light words that tease and flout,  
But oh, the agitated heart, till someone find us really out.”

 

Pairing: Amras/Amlach.  
Characters: Amras, Amlach, Celebrimbor, Caranthir, Maedhros.  
Series Warning: The entire arc, The Journal – The Song of Sunset, is rated R or above for a variety of colourful reasons.  
Story Warning: Rated PG-13. AU. Amras’s narrative, 1st person. 

 

Amras – son of Fëanor.  
Amlach – grandson of Marach, an Edain chieftain. Served Maedhros.

 

“And Maitimo allowed,” Telpë was saying. “He is very kind.”

“I am sure he is,” I said distractedly, my eyes on the little tableau playing out before us in the courtyard.

Maitimo was standing in the middle of the yard, clad in his customary, muted grey robes. Kneeling before him, professing fealty, was a young man. I recognized the darkly handsome features of Marach’s grandson.

“Do you know him, uncle?” my companion asked me.

Young Telpë called me 'uncle' while he addressed my eldest brother by name. I decided to overlook the incongruity and answered his query.

“Yes,” I said, “one of the leaders of the recent dissension amongst the Edain. What is he doing here?”

“He asked to be allowed to serve Maitimo.” The suave tones of Carnistro informed me. I turned to find him viewing the scene scornfully.

“Indeed?” I turned to face my brother. “What a ridiculous notion! He was one of those who spoke most vehemently against our cause during their dissension.”

“Yet here he is.” Carnistro shrugged. “Come in, Telpë. It is time for dinner.”

 

 

Once, so long ago, dinner had been a rambunctious affair in my grandfather’s house. The tradition had continued in Formenos. A vigorously opinionated, large family had not allowed for quiet meals.

After crossing the sea, our meals had been quieter. We had turned wiser and caution had come along with wisdom. Wary as we were of quarrels within the family, we would fall silent whenever a difference of opinion was likely to surface. I hated it, the restraint that we were forced to embrace.

I had always treated my brothers and cousins with cool neutrality. I had never fought with any of them, not even with Carnistro. But nor did I name them my friends. After coming to East Beleriand, I had taken the lands to the south, as far away from my family as was possible.

“Maitimo,” my young nephew piped up, “what did you tell that man?”

“Lord Amlach, Telpë.” Maitimo emphasized the honorific. “I received him into my ranks, of course. He seems wise and courageous. He shall make an excellent commander of my men. It would do away with the rumours that I am biased against appointing the Edain as my commanders.”

“Brother,” Carnistro said briskly. “I mean no offence, but you are too trusting. I would not have you take the young man into your ranks so soon. Let him prove his worth.”

“Hmm…” Maitimo nodded thoughtfully. “His worth in battle is proven. I have seen for myself that he is wise beyond his years. He is courteous, noble and of Marach’s blood. I would be foolish to refuse his services.” 

“But he fought with his kinsmen, uncle.” Telpë broke in, waving a fork at Maitimo. “Wasn’t that why he came to you?”

Maitimo leant back, his grey eyes twinkling. Fingering the rim of his goblet lazily, he observed, “I think we are actually having a debate during dinner.”

I grinned and said frankly, “A nice change it makes too. I hope that we don’t clam up now and revert to careful politeness.”

“Indeed, I’m grateful to Amlach then, for providing us this moment,” Maitimo quipped as he raised his goblet in a salutary toast.

“I still think that you are not being very prudent,” Carnistro remarked as he clinked his goblet against Maitimo’s.

“Let us vote on it,” Telpë suggested, his youthful features excited. “I say that more prudence is called for.”

“That is not-” 

“I agree with Telpë,” Carnistro broke in before Maitimo could disagree. “And you, Ambarto?”

I shrugged. I honestly did not care whom Maitimo took into his ranks. But I could not afford to go against Carnistro. He had a deep memory for grudges. Maitimo was easier.

“Oh, I know I will be in the minority,” Maitimo sighed before I could speak in support of Carnistro. “Since you have decided to test his mettle, I will leave him to your tender mercies until you deem him fit to join my ranks.”

“May I-?” Telpë began, his features shining in excitement.

“No, you may not.” Maitimo and Carnistro spoke as one, causing Telpë’s face to betray unhappiness.

“Atarinkë would never hear the end of it if we were to give you tasks,” Carnistro offered our upset nephew. “He sent you here for a reprieve from all of that.”

“I know,” Telpë sighed. “I wish you allowed me to do something for you.”

“Don’t swear oaths, don’t attempt creating the Silmarili and don’t steal into the kitchens,” Maitimo leant over the table to grip Telpë’s arm. “That would be fine.”

Carnistro laughed and rose from his seat. I chuckled at Maitimo’s words, even as I wondered at their familial bonds. I had never experienced such an attachment to any in my family, perhaps excepting my twin. 

“Ambarto,” Maitimo said, drawing my attention back to him from my dreary musings, “I am assigning Amlach to your care.”

“Carnistro can-” I began protesting vociferously. I had no wish to take on the task.

Maitimo winked at Carnistro saying, “I am sure that would not be an excellent idea. He might set my castle aflame with his temper. And that would be quite an achievement for this is undoubtedly the realm of frost.”

For a moment, I thought that Carnistro might take offence at the teasing words. He had been very unpredictable ever since the disastrous culmination of his romance with Lady Haleth. His fluctuating moods had been the reason why Maitimo had brought him to Himring, for ‘a change of scenery’. Frankly, I did not think that Maitimo’s cold mountain offered better scenery. 

“It wouldn’t be a loss even if I did set the castle aflame thus, brother,” Carnistro retorted, flashing a grin that made him look extremely handsome. “I am sure that Nolofinwë and Macalaurë would thank me for doing such a thing and rendering you homeless. At least then, you would have no choice, but to return to them.”

Maitimo chuckled and inclined his head in acceptance of the neat parry of words. Telpë laughed, his mirth resounding melodiously in the chamber. A smile tugged even at the corners of my usually stoic lips.

 

“My lord Amras.”

I looked up from my twin’s letter to find Amlach waiting patiently beside the door. 

“Come in,” I offered. “I am almost done. Just correspondence.”

He walked into the chamber, his blue eyes taking in the spare furnishings. I felt dissatisfaction bloom noxiously within me as memories of the high-ceilinged, luxurious chambers of my grandfather’s palace assaulted my mind. 

Amlach’s appraisal added to my discontentment. I dropped the letter and rose to my feet saying briskly, “I am ready.”

We made our way to the courtyard quietly. I was still mulling over the lack of luxuries. He seemed to be silent by nature. 

“I hope you are not offended,” I began cautiously, “that you have to prove your worth to us.”

“The times are such and my reputation as a source of discord precedes me, I fear.” He shrugged. “I would have done the same had I been in your brother’s place. Yet, when he spoke to me, I felt that proving my worth might not be required. He seemed to accept my sincerity at face value. I had been surprised.”

“Oh, it was not his idea,” I said frankly. “I don’t think he would have asked you to undergo this if he hadn’t been persuaded by us. We fear his trusting nature.”

“Blind trust in a ruler is not always a virtue,” Amlach accepted. There was an undertone of bitterness to his words that made me curious.

“You speak as if from personal experience,” I remarked.

“Indeed,” he offered me a wry smile, the smile of a soldier who accepts that his fortunes have fallen. 

His smile rendered his otherwise unremarkable features into brilliant radiance. True, he was handsome, but most of the men of his house were equally handsome. But the smile lit his features, and brought a twinkle to his blue eyes.

“Lord Amras?”

“Call me Amras.” I waved away the honorific. I had always hated titles. They meant nothing in war. We were equally vulnerable to death, lord and vassal. Why, even my seemingly invulnerable father had...

“Then I must insist that you address me by name too.”

“I shall be honoured to.”

I pushed my dark thoughts away and unsheathed my sword. Through the corner of my eyes, I could see Carnistro and Telpë engaged in wrestling. 

Amlach drew his sword and stepped back. I tilted my head as I tried to ascertain his strengths. His introspective, thoughtful nature would make him a prudent warrior. No reckless moves, certainly. He was a swordsman, proved by those broad shoulders and deeply callused palms. 

“Shall we?” I asked, tapping the edge of his sword with my own.

He nodded and raised his blade heavenward, the steel shone in the sunlight, bright and proud. My body drew taut as I braced myself for the attack. 

His sword seemed to morph into one with his hands, making him the weapon. Before I could defend myself against his powerful attack, he retreated and renewed the assault from my left. I spun about and leapt backwards to gain time, but he advanced easily and dealt sharp, swift blows to my flummoxed blade. It was all that I could do to keep my balance. 

“Focus, Ambarto,” Carnistro’s voice called out from the vicinity, surprise colouring his voice.

I was shocked too. Though my skills with the sword did not match that of my elder brothers, I was still a renowned warrior. 

“VARDA!” I shouted as I launched a counter-attack. Sweat shone on Amlach’s forehead as he parried my blows, his muscles sinuously moving beneath his damp tunic. I dealt a strike that would have brought down a lesser opponent. My sword swept in a great arc, slipping neatly under his raised arms. I had judged his weakness well. Smugness rose in me even as he leapt backwards to avoid my blade. I advanced and began a lazy attack, knowing well that all I needed to do was to wait. He had lost his footing and would be hard pressed to regain his balance, as occupied as he was with the defence. But I could not help admiring the excellent eye to hand coordination that he had.

“Well fought!” Telpë shouted encouragement.

Amlach snarled, his blue eyes darkening in determination. He pirouetted once gracefully and landed on his feet a few steps away from me. Then, before I could react to this move, he launched an attack. 

He must have been wearing down, for his blows lacked the intensity of the earlier ones. But I had been well and truly surprised. It was all that I could do to block his sword, trying to shield my weak spots against his adrenaline-driven attack.

He cocked his head to a side before smirking, all the while never ceasing in his attack. I narrowed my eyes in apprehension at the sight. I was right to be worried; for the next moment, he had launched himself at me, neatly toppling me to the ground. My sword fell out of my hand and I groaned.

“Ambarto?” Carnistro’s voice held concern. “Are you fine?”

“Just my pride has been bruised, brother,” I hissed, highly uncomfortable. That a young man had beaten me stung my ego just as badly as the fact that my brother and my nephew had been there to see my fall.

Amlach rose to his feet and picked up my sword. I shook my head as Telpë offered me his hand. 

“Oh, uncle,” Telpë laughed as he pulled me up anyway. “I’d happy to grant you an easy win if it bothers you so.”

“Telpë,” Carnistro said warningly, “you will not bait your uncle. Now, come with me, and let us finish our match.”

Telpë patted my shoulder in a gesture of comfort before following my brother out of the courtyard. I saw a few onlookers watching Amlach curiously. It was not every day that they saw a son of Fëanor vanquished, after all. 

Amlach was staring at his feet, clearly at a loss to what would come next. Perhaps he believed in the fey rumours associated with my family. I rubbed my bruised elbows angrily. Defeat, even in a friendly duel, was not something sweet to digest. I knew I should congratulate him for a fight fairly won. But I could not bring myself to it.

“Well, brother?” Maitimo’s teasing voice pulled me out of my brooding. “Are you harmed?”

“I never harm my opponents in practice, my lord,” Amlach said defiantly. 

Maitimo raised his eyebrows before smiling. 

“I am unharmed.” I took my sword from Amlach. “He is an excellent swordsman and I think you have gained a new commander, Maitimo.”

“I knew it instinctively,” Maitimo winked at me. “But it was worth the wait to see the duel, brother. If you had not lowered your defence after disturbing his footwork, I think we would have had a different outcome.”

“Indeed, my lord,” Amlach seconded, his face solemn.

“Perhaps.” I shrugged. “Amlach’s skill did not need aid from my lapse in attention, though.”

“Well, there are no pressing duties awaiting you today, Lord Amlach. Please take the opportunity to meet my staff,” Maitimo offered. “I am sure that Ambarto could guide you.”

Something was amiss. The last time Maitimo had forced me into a task, I had ended up in an orgy. I glared at him. He gave me one of his trademark smiles that seemed to embody innocence. 

“Come, Amlach,” I murmured. The sooner I finished, the sooner I could escape whatever Maitimo had planned.

 

“I thought you would be angry,” he remarked.

“I was,” I said frankly. “But it is useless to get angry. If anything, you impressed me. So young and so talented with the sword.”

“I am afraid that the lands allow no relaxation for age. Swords are thrust into our hands when we are but boys,” he sighed.

“True. My own youth was spent in easier climes. I feel very sad when I see boys barely of age geared for battle.”

“You are the youngest of your family, is it not?” he asked me curiously. “I have heard so.”

“I suppose only my mother’s midwife knows who is the youngest of us,” I said wryly. “I like to think that I am older than my twin.”

He chuckled, a sound that seemed very pleasant to listen to.

“I have seen your standards on the grasslands to the south. Why are you here? To visit your brother?” 

He was staring at the unappealing surround of Himring with decided dislike. I could not blame him. I often wondered myself how my brother could bear the place. 

“I am accompanying my young nephew, Telpë; Celebrimbor, he is called in the grey-elven tongue. We came to make our annual report to my brother, something he insists upon.”

“It is an excuse to enjoy family reunions!” Amlach laughed. “My grandfather would insist on the same.”

“Well, we stagger our visits over the year, so that someone is with my eldest brother at any point of time.” I stopped walking. I had not meant to divulge that information. 

“I have heard tales of his misfortunes,” Amlach said. “I felt that he has the greatest cause to fight Morgoth. That is why I offered him my services.”

“Thank you,” I said sincerely. “I am certain that your support will aid him greatly in the times to come.”

 

“Uncle, uncle, please wake up.”

Telpë was shaking me awake. Groggily, I blinked at him. 

“Maitimo and Uncle Carnistro are fighting. Please come.” Telpë looked haunted in the flickering torchlight.

“Telpë…” I sighed as I rose and rested my back against the headboard of the bed. “I don’t think that my intervention would gain anything. Carnistro will never listen to me.”

“Please?” 

My nephew’s pleading grey eyes unsettled me. Atarinkë thoroughly spoilt his son, trying to fill in the places of both father and mother. Maitimo and the rest of my brothers indulged their nephew to an unhealthy extreme, which I did not think very wise. Macalaurë and I were the only ones immune to Telpë’s charm. Though, of course, Macalaurë’s stand on anything was hard to discern, given his unnatural skill in dissimulation. 

“Go to your chamber. I will see what I can do,” I said dully. He smiled and nodded before gliding silently out of my chamber. 

I pushed myself to my feet and stretched. I had no intentions of interrupting their argument. I knew from experience that the best solution was to let them be. I crept out into the corridor and walked away from the direction of the raised voices. 

My aimless wandering took me in the direction of the courtyard. To my dismay, it was snowing lightly. I hated the snow. I did not mind the cold, but I hated getting my clothes damp and sodden. 

There, standing in the middle of the courtyard, drawing arcs in the inch deep snow with his sword was Amlach. A shaft of yellow firelight fell on his pensive features as I paused with my fingers on the door knob.

He looked up and offered a wary smile, clearly uncomfortable. I slid the door shut and walked down the steps to join him.

“I miss my land,” he admitted before I could even think of words to initiate conversation.

“I am sorry.”

Inadequate and clichéd, but I did not know what to say. He shrugged and continued tracing lines in the snow. 

“I miss Valinor. So I understand how it is,” I said uneasily. “For all its wonders, Beleriand will never conquer my birthplace in my heart. At least, you can visit your lands whenever you wish. I cannot.”

“Betrayal does not merit forgiveness in my kind. I cannot return.” His voice was wistful, but unrepentant.

“My father…” My breath hitched in my throat as I uttered those words. I clenched my hands into fists and went on. “My father used to say that as long as we act in accordance with our conscience, we needn’t repent.”

“I suppose that is true,” he said noncommittally. “But that doesn’t make our actions less hard to bear.”

“As much as I would like to continue the discussion,” I smiled at him, “it grows colder and I wouldn’t want my brothers to dig us out from beneath a snow bank in the morning.”

“A snow bank?” he asked incredulously.

“Of course not.” I winked. “But we must go inside, all the same.”

He nodded assent and followed me into the castle.

“I am afraid that the luxuries here must be less than you are used to,” I said. “My brother has always prized efficiency above comfort.”

“I am of the same mind with him,” Amlach said. “But I have found the castle a cosy place. The fireplaces are always well-lit and it is warm enough. A weary warrior looks forward to nothing more than a warm fire at the end of his day.”

“He may look forward to a full meal and bodily comfort too,” I joked. “I speak from personal experience. I am always hungry after a hunt or a battle.”

“So am I,” he laughed, his white, even teeth flashing at me. “But I cannot say the same about comfort.”

“You are young. As soon as you are married, you will understand the attractions of comfort.” I shrugged. “My parents enjoyed their most passionate episodes after enduring trying days.”

“But you are not married,” he said slowly. Then he smiled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “No doubt, you mean the anonymous interludes that any warrior seeks out after a long day. There were such establishments in my land.”

I laughed at hearing his conclusions before hastily reassuring him, “I don’t seek out partners from such establishments, Amlach. I was talking hypothetically.”

“Hmmm…” he did not expand further on his thoughts. We had reached a fork. The passage to the right led to the wing where he was housed while the one to the left led to the royal wing. 

“Well, then,” I said quietly. “May you find rest for what remains of the night.”

“I wish you the same.” He smiled. 

I nodded and turned to leave. A warm grip on my wrist stayed me. I turned to find him but a step away from me. His features open and sincere, he pulled me into a loose embrace. It was a custom of his people, I knew. He had earlier embraced Maitimo after professing his fealty. I had grinned at my brother’s discomfort then. 

Now, caught in the same situation, I awkwardly turned my face away. My nose poked into his left eye and I began apologizing as he raised a hand to rub the eye. His fingers brushed my lips on their way up and I tried to pull away. 

"You are a coward!" Carnistro's voice reverberated in the passage. The argument was still going on then.

I turned abruptly, my hands jabbing into my companion’s chest. I moved a step forward and fell back promptly, realizing then that he had been stepping on my robes all the while. His arms caught me and broke my fall. 

I looked up at him. Those blue eyes were astir with confusion, amusement and something else. I must have looked ridiculous, propped against his chest, my arms clutching his waist for support. An unruly lock of hair fell into my eyes. I cursed. Carefully, he brought his fingers to sweep the hair out of my face. I flushed as his fingers brushed my skin. He gave a tentative clearing of his throat and helped me to my feet.

“Take your boots off my robes.” It was a growl, however much I wish it had not been so. I was terribly unsettled, by the hard warmth of his chest. It had wrought a tangible effect on my body, as much as I strived to ignore that.

He flinched at my tone, but hastily complied and apologized.

“No,” I waved my hand dismissively, “it is all right.”

He stepped away. Impulse ruled me as I reached out to grab his hand. His smile faltered. His eyes darkened and he inhaled sharply as I slowly traced the veins beneath the sensitive skin of his inner wrist. 

"What are you doing?" He spoke very quietly, as if not to jar the beauty of this stolen moment.

I did not reply. I did not have to, for the next instant, I was ensconced in a hard embrace, causing me to close my eyes. Trembling fingers fluttered above the nape of my neck, earning an overwrought sigh from my lips.

 

"A good morning, I must say," Maitimo was saying as I gingerly made my way into the brightly lit dining chamber. He flashed one of his ephemeral smiles at me before asking in a very innocent tone, "I trust you rested well, Ambarto?"

My irritation at his omniscience lasted all of a moment. The sparkle of wine that was placed at my brother's elbow reminded me of the radiance of flushed skin in intimate firelight. 

"You seem feverish," Maitimo remarked, a teasing twinkle playing in his grey eyes.

"Thank you, brother." 

The gratitude was not for his solicitous concern about my health. He seemed to realize that, for his smile lingered. Then he nodded simply before motioning me to a chair beside him. 

 

I walked to his chambers, feeling extremely unsettled. In the harsh daylight, there were a hundred and more excuses to forget what had transpired in yesterday's shadows. As Carnistro's experience had shown us, relationships with the kindred of Men would not end in happiness.

"What do you want?" 

The question greeted me as soon as I pushed the door open. He was standing before the fire, his features as pensive as they had been when I had found him in the courtyard.

"I am sorry if I disturbed-"

"What do you want?" He did not turn to face me. 

I did not even think twice before replying, "I want us."

"It will end in grief," he murmured.

"My mother named me 'fated'. Perhaps this is my fate."

"You don't fear it?" His words were broken by emotion.

"I am not as passionate or eloquent as the rest of my family is. I am not a poet, I am not a diplomat, I am not valiant. I cannot profess that I will do anything for you. I cannot declare that I value you above my Oath. But what I am is yours, if you wish." 

It was the longest speech I had made in my life. I was panting as I finished it. Dimly, I wondered how Maitimo could make such moving speeches everyday of his life. The fates had played a cruel trick on me. They had granted all those special talents to my brothers and left me ordinary. 

"I told you I am not eloquent," I said dully as he continued staring at the fire. 

A queer sound, half-way between a sob and a laugh escaped him. Alarmed, I strode towards him. But he beat me to it and I was thoroughly ensnared in a trap of limbs. I gasped as he pushed me back against the desk. Our eyes met. I knew it would all be in vain when I saw the blue gaze raking my soul to the depths. 

"Let us see how eloquent you are," he breathed in my ear before proceeding to test my eloquence in hitherto unimagined ways. 

 

"You seem to be in high spirits," Carnistro remarked as I entered the chamber whistling. 

It was an understatement. I had not been in such a jovial mood even when I had 'accidentally' dropped a sack of frogs in Irissë's chamber all those years ago. She had shouted the walls down, I remembered fondly. The reminiscence was immediately followed by pain as I thought of Irissë's fate.

"Ambarto?" 

"It is nothing. What were you quarreling about?"

He shrugged before saying darkly, "A night of complete discord. We were determined not to agree on anything."

"Discord can turn out to have beneficial effects." Maitimo threw a meaningful glance at me as he joined us. 

"What do you mean?"

"Amlach." Maitimo went on airily despite my look of protest. "He has proven himself worthy of being my commander."

"Among several other things..."Carnistro mused, his eyes lingering over me thoughtfully. 

I did not let them bait me, for that would only bring me vexation. Instead, I let myself be carried along by the sweet waves of memory. 

I decided to allow Maitimo his smugness. He was right after all. Discord had its benefits.

 

 

Names:

Telpë - Celebrimbor - Celebrimbor's Quenya name was Telperinquar 'the silver fist'.  
Maitimo - Maedhros.  
Carnistro - Caranthir.  
Ambarto - 'Umburto' had been Amras's mother name. It means 'fated'. It was altered to 'Ambarto' later.  
Amlach - grandson of Marach.  
Atarinkë - Curufin.  
Macalaurë - Maglor.

Canon Notes:

Three houses of Men were called Elf-friends by the Eldar of Beleriand; the house of Beor (Beren belonged to this line), the Haladin (Lady Haleth belonged to this line) and the house of Marach (Hador belonged to this line). After a few years of friendly alliances, they start a fight between themselves about the advisability of aiding the elves. (It’s the Silmarillion, after all.) Amlach was of the house of Marach. He repents his decision to go against the Eldar and enters Maedhros’s service in Himring.

But Amlach repented, saying: 'I have now a quarrel of my own with this Master of Lies, which will last to my life's end'; and he went away north and entered the service of Maedhros. (The Silmarillion)

The Song of Sunset References:

1\. The Journal of Fingolfin.  
2\. The Journal of Maglor.  
3\. A Cauldron of Lies.  
4\. The Chalice.  
5\. Akin To Love.

 

The title is inspired by 'The Apple of discord' (classical mythology) a golden apple thrown into a banquet of the gods by Eris (goddess of discord--who had not been invited); the apple had `for the fairest' written on it and Hera and Athena and Aphrodite all claimed it; when Paris (prince of Troy) awarded it to Aphrodite it began a chain of events that led to the Trojan War.

The poem verses quoted from ‘A Boy’s Will’ – Robert Frost.  
politics


End file.
